The Scars That Mark our Bodies
by pansexualprincess15
Summary: "You're the only thing that makes me smile. So please... I can't lose that. I can't lose you."


As morning rose over District 7's lush green forest, golden sunlight spilled over the treeline and flooded the woodland. The thicket of trees was desolate except for a single figure-a short, brown haired girl who slunk through the trees, balancing an axe on her shoulder. She sagged a bit under the weight of the weapon, her rather small frame struggling to keep it from slipping off her shoulder. She had been dealing with axes all her life, and she still hadn't become strong enough to carry one.

She had told her parents she was going out to chop some wood, but really she just needed to get away for a bit. She loved her family, and she needn't have lied, except for today was special. Today was the day of the reaping.

Although the entire concept of the Hunger Games was despicable, she had to admit the name "reaping" was a bit clever. That's what it was; rooting around for what you wanted until you found it, then yanking it out of its home and placing it in your basket and moving on to the next victim.

The chance she'd be picked was terribly slim, but it was still nerve-racking. The idea that you could be plucked from your life and thrown into a bloodbath-it just reminded you how little power you had as a citizen of Panem.

The girl's shoulder began to ache where the axe rested, and she slid it off her collarbone to where it swung about freely. Although hearing of someone swinging an axe around is most likely unsettling, you didn't have to worry. It wouldn't slip out of her hand. She was an expert with an axe.

Suddenly, from the brush of a tree, another girl dropped, landing swiftly on her hands and knees before leaping to her feet. The other girl was pretty; she had long, straight brown hair that went just past her ribcage and clean-cut, sharp eyebrows. The girls made eye contact and one approached the other.

"What're you doing out here, Erin?" The second girl asked.

"I could ask you the same thing, Ashlynn." Erin replied, a small, polite smile on her face.

"The reaping's this afternoon." Ashlynn said, her voice seemingly indifferent toward the topic.

"Yes, I suppose it is." Erin murmured, blinking slowly. Ashlynn was the closest thing she had to a best friend; they'd known each other since they were small, and they had always been close. When Ashlynn's father died, Erin was right there. When Erin's mother had a miscarriage, Ashlynn helped Erin through the hard time.

"Are you nervous?" Ashlynn asked.

"No. Not really. Just disgruntled. You?" Erin dug the blade of her axe into the ground as she spoke.

"Same as you." Ash replied, although one could tell from her voice and body language that she, in fact, _was_ nervous.

There was a pregnant pause before one of the loudspeakers came on in the distance, its monotone voice echoing through the forest.

"The reaping this afternoon will take place at precisely twelve o'clock in the Square. Those who choose not to attend this event will face serious consequences." The voice then cut off abruptly.

Ashlynn let out a whoosh of breath and glanced over at Erin. "Better get going, then. Need to wash up." She said, shrugging slightly.

Erin nodded in agreement. The two began walking back, meandering, trying to prolong the time until their separation. Their walk was completely silent, void of any conversation. This was what they usually did when they hung out; they found that simply having the other girl present made the situation a bit more bearable.

Once they got to the edge of the forest, Ashlynn stopped. "I'll see you." She said before breaking out into a run, racing back to her house before her mother could notice she was gone.

Erin, on the other hand, walked slowly. She didn't care if she got in trouble. Her leather boots scuffed the dirt as she made her way through town, glancing at the shops and markets, salivating at the cakes in the window of the bakery.

The girl stopped in front of a quaint little house. It was cheerful; the lights were on in the house, a small touch that made it that much more homey. Her family wasn't rich, nor were they poor. They were perfectly comfortable where they were.

Erin walked up the steps to her front door and pushed it open, slipping her shoes off and taking off her jacket. The girl glanced around the living room and saw her brother collapsed on the sofa, taking a nap. That wasn't atypical of him; ever since he turned 14 he had become a lot sleepier and more lazy.

The girl sighed and approached the couch, sitting on the couch beside her sleeping brother and looking at him for a few seconds. He was handsome, although she never admitted it. He had dark brown hair, messy like hers, and light blue eyes like their mother. His cheek was rough with stubble that he was too lazy to shave; he'd have to do that before the reaping began.

Erin glanced at the clock above her father's armchair and read the time. 9:36. Already 9:30 and she hadn't taken a bath? She looked back at her brother and leaned forward to shake him awake.

"Timothy? Timothy." She said softly.

Her 18-year-old brother gave a groan and sleepily opened his eyes. "Whassgoinon?" He slurred.

"The Reaping starts soon. It's already 9:30; you need to get showered and shaved." Erin informed him.

That snapped him awake. It was his last year in the Reaping, and he needed to be there in case he was called (which he wouldn't be). Their family never took tesserae, so each of their names were only in once. Neither of them would be called, just like the hundreds of other kids in their District who were never called.

Timothy stretched for a few seconds before standing up. "Mom's in the kitchen making breakfast." He yawned.

"I'm not hungry." Erin responded lamely.

"Erin." He said sternly, fixing her with a fatherly look. She sighed and made her way into the kitchen to find her mother at the stove, frying some eggs.

Erin's mother was very pretty. She had a gentle face and long, curly blonde hair, a rare treasure in those of us from District 7. Her eyes were a warm golden brown, and she could light up a room with her smile. The best part about her was she made Erin's father laugh. It had been hard for him to do that since his sister died in the Games eleven years ago. She had often been jealous of her brother for seeing the funner, more carefree side of her father; she was only four when she died, and she didn't remember that. All Erin remembered was his struggle with drugs and alcohol years after that, and the deep depression he went into.

"Hey, mom." Erin said, sitting on a barstool.

She turned and smiled at the girl. "Hi, honey! How was chopping?" She reached to turn off the stove and slid the eggs onto the plate. Scrambled; Erin's favorite.

"It was okay. I mostly just wanted to get some time away." Erin grabbed her fork and began digging in when the eggs were set in front of her.

"I get it... big day today, huh?" Erin's mother approached the subject tenderly.

"Yeah..." Erin trailed off, stuffing a forkful of egg into her mouth.

Erin's mother paused a moment. "Honey, I'm sure you won't get chosen. You have nothing to worry about."

Erin nodded, dropping her head to look at her lap.

"Your father-he wishes he could be here." Erin's mother sighed. The reality was that Erin's father was most likely at a bar somewhere or sleeping in an alley, too drunk to walk home after a night on the town.

"I know." Erin murmured. She took a second before eating the last bite of egg and getting to her feet. "I have to go run my bath. Thanks for everything, mom."

The girl slipped out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, where her brother had just finished his shower. He walked out the door in only a towel, showing off a six-pack and large muscles. Erin remembered when he had first gotten them-how excited he had gotten to be "a big guy." He wasn't so childish about it now, but he definitely didn't resist the urge to show his body off.

Once Erin was safely in the bathroom with the door locked, she slipped off her clothes and reveled in the feeling of the steam caressing her creamy skin, marked only by a few scars she had gotten from climbing trees and chopping lumber. She definitely wasn't a stick figure; she had curves that earned her attention from boys at school, attention that she deflected as best she could. Boys and dating had never interested her, really.

The girl stared at herself in the mirror for a few seconds, studying her features. She ran a hand through her shaggy shoulder-length brown hair, stared intensely into her own light brown eyes. She wasn't a rare treasure; there were plenty of pretty girls in her District. She was just someone nice to look at.

Erin turned on the faucet and heated the water until it was more hot than cold. That's how she liked her baths; hot to the touch. Once it was full, she slid into the water and took a deep breath. She always felt most relaxed in the bath. Surrounded by water, she was at peace.

After a few minutes of soaking, the girl grabbed her razor and began shaving her legs and washing her hair. She had to look her best for the Reaping, or so her mother said.

Erin ran her fingers along her smooth legs, enjoying the feeling of a perfectly untouchable surface. The girl sighed and relaxed a few more minutes before getting out and drying herself off.

A black collared dress was spread out across the girl's bed along with some comfortable but stylish shoes. Erin slipped it on and looked at herself in the mirror for quite some time. She looked different like this, all done up. She was pretty, but there was a certain emptiness in her eyes. Anger? Maybe. Desolation? Maybe. Fear?

Definitely.


End file.
